


Nothing to Regret

by plaidshirtjimkirk



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Toshisami, konhiji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 20:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14362911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidshirtjimkirk/pseuds/plaidshirtjimkirk
Summary: Fifteen years later, some things are different…and some are the same.





	Nothing to Regret

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [hakusaitosan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakusaitosan)'s prompt: "Get me" (in which one character saves another)
> 
> I added some historical notes at the bottom.

**.*Nothing to Regret*.** _  
_

_Tama 1868_

Starlight spilled silver rivers down a path once traveled by much younger feet, when there was a spring in every step taken and promise in every breath drawn.

Fifteen years ago, a wooden shinai had been braced against Kondo’s shoulder. Fifteen years ago, a medicine chest was strapped to Hijikata’s back. Fifteen years ago, they walked side-by-side, each riddled with shyness and attempting to navigate his own feelings while arms intermittently brushed and fingers worried into hakama.

Fifteen years ago, the future looked so bright, so…exciting. And now…

Hijikata’s pinky hooked around Kondo’s while they walked in silence, adorned by plain yukata in the style of standard Shieikan wardrobe. Shinai and medicine had been exchanged for trusted swords stowed at the hip, and that unbreakable, unrelenting spirit for—

The breathy huff he’d been awaiting interrupted Hijikata’s thoughts, and with piqued curiosity, he lifted his chin.

“You know…” Kondo’s voice was as soft as the expression he wore, his lashes low and eyes trained toward the ground. “This place has been the same since I first saw it.”

A pensive moment followed and Hijikata barely pursed his lips. He hadn’t anticipated hearing an obvious statement after all this time, especially since such news was certainly no news at all; _everyone_ knew that nothing in Tama ever changed.

…Except, of course, for a particular story about a peasant Miyagawa boy-turned-samurai, who did every last thing societal rules forbade him from. Naturally, Hijikata knew that wasn’t the direction Kondo had intended with this conversation, so he kept his sarcasm stowed and simply allowed him to continue.

“I must’ve been…seven, was it? When Otojiro and Kumezo first took me here. And still, after all this time…” A particular airiness characterized Kondo’s voice as his gaze lifted and he drank in their surroundings. After some seconds, his shoulders lowered and he murmured like he meant to speak to himself, “…it’s all exactly the same…”

At _that_ , Hijikata deemed appropriate the good-natured scoff which rolled off his tongue. He tossed his head to the side, the corners of his lips twitching and threatening a smile. “Strange complaint from a sentimental person…”

When Kondo didn’t offer a reply, Hijikata sought the profile of his commander again—only to find no inkling of jollity he’d expected the light jab to rouse. His own hinting amusement faded in a heartbeat, and not for the first time that day, Hijikata found himself studying intricacies of things left unsaid while searching between lines for truth.

The gentleness Kondo wore across his features had abated—traded effortless calm for… Hijikata’s brows twitched; he wasn’t sure _what_ name to give that cocktail of emotion, but he didn’t much like what it suggested.

Righting himself and standing a little straighter, he continued his covert scrutiny through peripheral vision so not to draw attention to his own attentions. “You really think it’s a bad thing?”

There was a conspicuous drop in Kondo’s tone. “…Maybe.”

At last.

Since late afternoon, Hijikata had masterfully danced his way around a wave of suspicion that crept to the forefront of his thoughts. The openness of that reply had finally provided a possible inlet to addressing it without things becoming awkward.

Kondo was exhibiting all the classic signs of being entrapped in his own form of peril; it was in his reticence, in the wavering cadence of his voice, in the world of feelings hiding in plain sight on his face. He exhibited his emotions so candidly that they all combined into something cryptic, and despite being on display, not easily interpreted.

An untrained eye might easily dismiss these indicators as typical moodiness. But Hijikata knew better, knew _him_ better, to recognize that there was more beneath the surface—something unsavory and abhorrent, something severe on the cusp of breaking.

It was only a matter of allowing Kondo to brood enough on his own: to not push, to let him come forth at his own pace. Now, all the telltale signs were lining up and pointing to the arrival of this long-awaited moment…but what a buildup it’d been to get here on this occasion.

Hijikata had known from the moment of Kondo’s return that his meeting with Katsu Kaishu hadn’t ended well. It was written all over him: in his voice, his demeanor, his avoidance of Hijikata’s eyes—and _especially_ his reluctance from the start to talk details.

The Shinsengumi had recently arrived in Tama to swell the ranks with new recruits, even without having a specific order from the Bakufu—other than standing in reserve. But fate had it that Katsu was passing by the halfway place between their current location and his residence, and sent a messenger to have Kondo meet with him.

…And that was the last Hijikata had heard of any of it.

For upon the commander’s return in the early evening, he’d insisted on sourcing dinner somewhere the moment his feet crossed the front threshold. And when the questions had been brushed off and the subjects had been changed, Hijikata ascertained the necessity of following the lay of the land—which consequently meant laying off until Kondo became ready to confide in him.

Dinner had been remarkably quiet, and ended with Kondo’s suggestion to take this walk. The proposition wasn’t so strange, now that they were both back on Tama soil after so many years, and after all, it _had_ been the path on which everything began.

Indeed. It was fitting to revisit the place which ignited a mutual aspiration, and especially now. Ever since the decision that saw the Shinsengumi driven far into Edo, Hijikata hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that they were on their way to yet another beginning…something more than the war and even greater than all the political transformation. The premonition felt…somehow personal, though he’d been unable to put his finger on why.

One thing _was_ certain, however. Winds of change were shifting wildly across the country again, and whether they would ultimately blow in or against the favor of the Shinsengumi—in or against the favor of _Isami and Toshi_ —had yet to be seen. The present state of matters appeared more bleak than optimistic, but it wouldn’t have been the first time either faced overwhelming opposition, or something seemingly impossible.

During those times of strife, they’d managed to emerge victorious despite great odds. They could do it again; of that, Hijikata was convinced. So long as Kondo and he had each other, there was always the chance to keep running forward and chasing the same butterfly with dandara wings.

It was then when Kondo’s pinky tightened around his, before it eased up and his entire hand slid over. Their palms pressed together and Hijikata felt larger fingers filing between his own, closing in tightly to entwine them. He squeezed back just as hard, wondering (for perhaps the millionth time) how this man at his side appeared to always know exactly what was running through his thoughts.

“Toshi…” Kondo finally spoke up, without turning to him. “I’ve come to realize something.” His chest pushed out with a deep inhale and he kept his chin raised. “…Rather late, it seems.”

While Kondo’s eyes were anywhere but on him, Hijikata couldn’t bring himself to look away any longer. “What is it?”

A hard swallow preceded the next words, soft and melancholy and bereft of the charismatic fire which always colored them. “Things which refuse change are destined to die. But change itself isn’t enough.” Slowly, Kondo nodded as he spoke on. “Because people…well, people who don’t do it in a smart way are destined to share that same fate.”

Hijikata couldn’t prevent the defensiveness that overtook his tone. “Are you saying we haven’t been smart?”

“No…” Reaching the top of the small hill, their steps slowed to a temporary stop and Kondo’s lower eyelids rose with a tiny squint. “I’m not saying that at all.” His gaze roamed over the water that mirrored a thousand celestial flecks glowing in the darkness, and still holding Hijikata’s hand with the same strength, he began approaching the familiar place—their place.

In silence, Hijikata allowed Kondo to lead him to the edge of the lake…to the waterline, where the soles of their shoes settled over their own invisible footprints from so many years ago.

To have had the opportunity to return here together, after so much time and so much that happened…after the promises were whispered and the commitments made, after the years spent in Kyoto, after the glory and the infamy and the victories and the losses…after Kondo had earned the title of hatamoto and Hijikata had cut his long locks to chin length…

A cool breeze blew ripples over white pearls of reflected starlight, and sent small waves to gently lap at the dirt before their toes.

“We’ve been smart, Toshi.” Kondo broke the quiet with sudden insistence. “The whole way...more samurai than samurai, just like we said.” He paused and his tongue poked out to wet his lips. “But I also think that…we’ve been unlucky.” At last, he found Hijikata’s gaze.

“Unlucky.”

Kondo’s mouth pushed out slightly and he nodded. “Yeah.”

And that’s when he finally told him.

~

 _Fury_.

—No. Fury couldn’t even _begin_ to define the dangerous levels of rage and animosity that surged within Hijikata. There were no words—not in Japanese, not in whatever venomous mixture of tongues the foreigners on those damned warships spoke—that could.

Ten seconds was all it took for Hijikata to understand why Kondo had waited to speak to him, and why he’d brought him here—far away from people.

They sat now with their arms touching, Kondo a portrait of composure that masked deep-bristling resentment and Hijikata positively seething. His hands braced against his knees, palms delivering a barrage of hard shoves as he rocked and attempted to calm himself with some semblance of rational thought.

What Katsu Kaishu had given Kondo was not an order, but a grave—for both himself and what remained of his men.

“ _If you can take Koufu Castle, it’s yours_ ,” Katsu had said plainly with a dismissive raise of the hand, right after presenting the opposition numbers...and just before he ripped away the very essence of the Shinsengumi: its name.

Even with the paltry aid pledged as so-called support, Satcho would outnumber Bakufu forces ten to one. And even if Kondo ran an aggressive campaign to gain recruits, who would be insane enough to come running to an unknown group going by something as ridiculous as _Kouyo-chinbutai_?

It was painfully clear why these decisions had been made. And it reopened old wounds that bled in the same way they had fifteen years ago, in this same location.

Back to the start all over again—outcast, shoved aside, _in the way_. Their hard work and accomplishments were all for naught, and their future once again obscured by political and societal bullshit...while Katsu Kaishu drank sake in the afternoons and flirted with ideas of negotiation with Satcho _trash_.

Upon that thought, Hijikata slapped his hands against his knees for the final time. “…They didn’t expect us to follow them to Edo.” He swiped up a small stone resting nearby.

“They didn’t,” Kondo agreed. “We have no place. Not here, not in the government.”

Exhaling a choppy breath, Hijikata turned the rock over and over in his hands. Then, he stared down at it, studied the combination of jagged edges and smooth surfaces before taking it tightly into one palm. “How much more can they possibly take from us?” His teeth gritted.

“Toshi…”

“What else could they possibly _fucking_ do to say nothing we did mattered?” The stone was rifled far out into the water with a splash.

Kondo caught his hand on the recoil, took it between his own and pulled it close. “ _Toshi_ ,” he repeated in a whisper. The pads of his thumbs caressed Hijikata’s fingers in small circles. “I would make it _such_ an end.”

“Kat-chan—”

“Bushido.” Keeping his focus on the lake, Kondo nodded with resolve. “That’s what’s always mattered most to us. It’s how we’ve lived all this time.” He swallowed and held Hijikata’s hand tighter. “And that’s how I’m going to die.” Slowly, Kondo turned to Hijikata.

“You agreed to go through with it,” Hijikata stated.

A nod. “Aa.”

“I already knew that.”

Kondo’s lashes fell and his chin dipped once more.

“I’m going with you.”

“I know.”

“Fine.”

They stared into each other’s eyes, each with determination...until Kondo at last relented and his expression eased. He exhaled through his nose and reached up, the side of his pointer finger stroking along Hijikata’s cheek and pushing long bangs behind his ear. “I’m sorry.”

Hijikata’s brows drew inward. “Why?”

“It was right here, wasn’t it?” The corners of Kondo’s lips pulled upward and he gazed to the sky. “All that time ago, when I asked you if there was something else you’d rather do with your life. And you said—”

“I want to be a samurai,” Hijikata interjected, adamant about saying it in his own voice; he had an idea where this was going and he didn’t like it one bit.

“And you did.” The smile became genuine and Kondo’s eyes fell back to meet his. “We _both_ did. There was a lot of trouble on the way, though, right?” A huff. “I suppose that’s my—”

“Every second was worth it.” Hijikata’s hand slapped against Kondo’s bicep, his digits possibly bruising with how hard they gripped. “Every. Single. Second. If I had the chance to go back and do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a damn thing.”

Kondo blinked, opting to remain quiet while he studied back with matching fervor. Finally, he reached up and pressed his palm over Hijikata’s knuckles. “Yeah?”

“Your reply is offensive, Kondo-sensei. I’ll try to overlook it.”

“How?! All I said was yeah,” Kondo retorted.

“No…you said _yeah?_ , not _yeah_.” With narrowing eyes, Hijikata lifted his chin. “Like it was a question.”

A soft laugh followed. “Toshi...” Kondo started, but shook his head and simply surrendered. “All right, sorry.”

“ _Don’t be_. That’s the point.” Hijikata finally let his hand fall and his spine relaxed as he turned toward the lake once more. “And don’t talk about that day like it was a bad thing.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Because if I never met you...” Hijikata pressed on, keeping his eyes forward. “If we never had that conversation...” His brows lifted. “I really don’t know where I’d be today.”

“Probably married,” Kondo suggested, his voice light.

Hijikata outright scoffed.

“With...five or six kids, and—”

His pupils shrunk at the insult and Hijikata snapped his face to the side in exasperation. “ _Kat-chan!_ ”

Kondo’s eyes had closed and a large smile was pulling far into his cheeks by now. “And you all...” Hearty laughter bubbled up. “You’d all be walking around with medicine chests!” He slapped his thigh. “Selling Ishida Sanyaku!”

“ _Oi!_ ” Hijikata shouted, and fueled by outrage, launched himself off the ground and toward Kondo. The tackle was successful—knocked Kondo right over on his back, but as Hijikata fell atop him, he found himself caught by large arms breaking his fall and holding him close.

With his cheek pressed to a warm chest, Hijikata waited while Kondo continued to be so emphatically amused by his own sense of humor, and let a smile of his own bloom across his lips.

“Kondo-san...” he muttered in mock disdain.

Hijikata reached up to grip his yukata and just... _reveled_ —reveled in the happiness, in the fact they were both alive and here and with each other...reveled in the memories of how they met, of the Shieikan days, of their triumphs in Kyoto...reveled in Kondo’s embrace, in his scent, in hearing his slowly quieting laughter.

And that’s when Hijikata recognized something he’d known from the very start. This would be the single thing in the entirety of his life that he would ever see through to the end. Because whether Kondo knew it or not...whether he recognized it or not, he’d saved him that day—from the world, from his family’s expectations, from society, from _himself_.

It was true; Hijikata had always been serious with this commitment. To him, it had always been endgame. But also...

His lashes parted and the smile faded.

If he could stop time...

Hijikata’s gaze fixed upon wispy shoots of tall grass jutting from fertile soil and bowing to the whisper of the breeze.

If he could just...stay like this forever...

He held his breath and refused to blink. His hand latched tighter to the yukata fabric.

...That would be okay. It would be...

Large fingers began stroking through his hair.

...entirely okay.

Hijikata buried his face unto Kondo’s chest.

If resisting change was wrong, then on this occasion in particular, he didn’t want or need to be right.

~

“ _I’m a hopeless loser. I’ve never seen something through, not even once._ ”

“ _It can’t be that. Maybe it’s just...none of that was ever a good match for you._ ” The skepticism aimed in Kondo’s direction caused him to elaborate. “ _Okay, think of it this way. Isn’t there something else you’d rather be doing?_ ”

“ _Something...else?_ ” What else could there possibly be, outside of apprenticeship or medicine peddling or— _ugh_ — _farming_? Hijikata had no idea. “ _Well... What about you? Do you have something?_ ”

“ _Me? Ah..._ ” Kondo looked toward the sky painted in pink by the setting sun. “ _I wanna save the weak and follow bushido...become a great general, just like Kanko!_ ” When his attention fell back to Hijikata, Kondo seemed surprised at the scrutiny with which he was being studied, and immediately laughed his own words off. “ _Oh. That sounds awfully funny, doesn’t it? A farmer dreaming of becoming a general..._ ”

“ _No..._ ” Hijikata pulled his legs to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. “ _Actually, I’m the same way. I want to be a samurai._ ” He stared out into the water. “ _...A true samurai._ ”

“ _Then we’re sharing the same dream, Toshi._ ”

“ _Yeah._ ” He nodded. “ _We are._ ”

~

Whatever would come next... Whatever was destined to happen...

Whether they’d been smart or stupid... Fortunate or unlucky...

However the tendrils of fate unwound...

Hijikata’s lips were rough against Kondo’s.

The world continued to turn. The red line of Satcho bled further and further to the east.

Whatever it was, whatever it would be...

New name. New uniforms. Fire in their bellies or not...

Before setting off for reinforcements, Hijikata had just one thing left to say to his commander—because he’d seen a particular look in those honeyed eyes that took him back to one day fifteen years ago when he felt just as lost.

He’d walked with purpose into the tent, grabbed Kondo by his hakamashita, and pulled him close enough so they could breathe the same breath—then eliminated the space between their lips.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he grated, breathless and with his face still close, “you _dare_ die here. No matter what happens.”

Hijikata released him. Without waiting for a reply, he marched back outside with heavy footsteps and hopped on his waiting horse.

Now they were even.

No matter the odds... No matter the challenge... As long as they still had each other, there was _always_ a chance.

There would always be hope.

And absolutely nothing to regret.

With resolve, Hijikata rode hard off into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! <333
> 
> I'm in no way an authority on Shinsengumi history, but I'm adding some notes just in case:  
> \- Otojiro and Kumezo were Kondo’s older brothers; their family name was Miyagawa  
> \- Katsu Kaishu was a military commissioner for the Tokugawa government who orchestrated its surrender to avoid war in Edo  
> \- Dandara is the Shinsengumi’s iconic uniform pattern  
> \- Hatamoto is a direct retainer of the Shogunate


End file.
